The Highs And Lows Of Hair Care
by Uh.yeah
Summary: Basically silly. Some really random snippets, vaguely related to hair care, in honour of the Tenth Doctor's new hair...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Just a little tribute to the Doctor and his new, big hair. Bless him.

Right, this could be loosely termed as a … collection of hair fics. Simply because they are all (more or less) related to hair and I decided to put them together. You see? It makes sense!

**Disclaimer**: Property of the BBC.

* * *

"Rose!" yelled an angry voice, from the other end of the TARDIS, "ROSE!" 

Rose jumped nervously, and slightly guiltily. But she managed to compose her features so that when the Doctor entered the lounge-like area, she looked calm and very, very innocent.

"Hey," she smiled, and took another sip from her cup of tea, "Want to come join me? I've just found some Green Wing reruns."

"Rose..." said the Doctor, in a warning tone.

"Yeah?" she asked, looking up, sweetly.

"Oh, don't act all innocent with me," he said, "I'm not stupid - not by a mile. Genius, actually, not that I mean to go on about it. But because I am a genius, you should know that pretending to know nothing about it will get you nowhere."

"Something wrong?"

"You used my comb!" he accused.

"Your comb?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms out, "My comb! The thing I use - and need - to do my hair. Don't pretend, Rose. I found it in your room!"

"What were you doing in my room?" demanded Rose.

"Looking for my comb," shot back the Doctor, starting to pace, "Come on, Rose, you can't get all offended. I mean, my hair was in a mess and I _needed _a comb. But it wasn't there. Do you know how annoying that is? And to be fair, I searched everywhere else before turning to your room."

"I can't think how it got there," said Rose, nonchalantly, then laughing at something on the TV. "Aw, Guy is so funny!"

The Doctor growled with irritation. "Rose. I don't think you're quite understanding how angry I am, here."

"I told you - I don't know how it got there."

"There was a strand of blonde hair on the comb." he informed her, with forced calm.

Rose sighed and muted the volume on the TV, before turning to face him directly.

"Ok, ok, you got me. I used your comb - sorry. But you did just leave it lying around. And my hairbrush has broken - some of the spoke things have snapped off. So… I borrowed your comb."

"And didn't give it back," pointed out the Doctor, quickly.

Rose stared at him for a few seconds before bursting out laughing.

"What?" demanded the Doctor, now looking absolutely livid.

"I'm sorry," spluttered Rose, "It's just you're standing there, completely furious, because I... I…" she choked on the words, she was laughing so hard, "Because I borrowed your comb!"

The Doctor glared at her, looking more and more dangerous until suddenly - almost scarily suddenly - all his anger dissolved and his face broke into a huge grin.

"You're right," he laughed, flopping down next to her on the sofa, "I don't know what came over me, all this fuss over one little comb. It's stupid. And a little too domestic for my liking…. Hang on," He paused, thoughtfully, "Did I… Did I just admit that I was wrong?"

"Uh huh," agreed Rose, "You want to watch that." She ruffled his hair, "You know, I like your hair messy."

Quickly grabbing her wrist, the Doctor jerked his head out of the way, "I just combed this, you know."

Rose rolled her eyes, before snuggling up against him and turning the volume back up on the TV. The Doctor smiled, happily, liking the way she leaned against him so completely and so comfortably.

"Well," he said, after a moment, "Guess we'll have to buy you a new hairbrush."

* * *

So. What do you think? I know it's random and most definitely not my best, but… 

The next one's much better, I promise…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: And another (kind of ) hair-care moment. I know, I know. It's random. It's insane. It's pointless…. But I found it fun…

Ok, guys. This'll be my last update for a couple of weeks, I'm afraid...

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine - it's the BBC's.

* * *

The sound of the Doctor's hurried footsteps grew louder as they reverberated down the corridor, until he threw the door open and burst into Rose's room. 

"Rose," he began, talking urgently and an anxious look on his face, "Have you see the Son-" He stopped as he looked at her, where she sat guiltily on the bed, "Oh. Right. I see you have it."

He walked up to the bed and she watched him nervously.

"So you just took the Sonic Screwdriver?" he asked, standing at the foot of the bed.

"Yeah, sorry," apologised Rose, "I came to ask you, actually, but you looked so sweet asleep, I didn't want to wake you."

"Well, that's alright, I suppose. I can understand how powerless you can be in the face of my overwhelming sweetness. But, more importantly, _why _on Earth did you take it?"

Rose gestured helplessly at the hairdryer in front of her, "It just won't work,"

The Doctor came and sat next to her on the bed, staring at the hairdryer.

"Right. You took the Sonic Screwdriver to fix a hairdryer."

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

The Doctor sighed, and picking the hairdryer up, started to inspect it.

"Well, I could have told you about an hour before. But then you melted the wiring with the Sonic Screwdriver and now… I haven't got a clue."

"Oh." Rose bit her lip.

The Doctor poked at a particularly melted piece of plastic and stared at Rose in bemusement.

"What did you _do _to it?"

"I just… pointed the Sonic Screwdriver at it."

The Doctor just stared at her some more. He then shook his head, disbelievingly, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Ok, let me get this straight - you took the Sonic Screwdriver and just… pointed it at your hairdryer?"

Rose nodded wordlessly.

"What, you honestly believed that all this time, I just pointed it at a thing and then the thing- whatever 'thing' it happened to be - just fixed itself?"

"No," said Rose, hotly, "I realise there are different settings and stuff. I just thought, maybe, I would be able to work out how to use it…"

"Well, I think it's pretty safe to say that you have no idea how to work it."

"I do!" exclaimed Rose, "But only in life or death situations - you know, when we need to get out of a cell or remove some cuffs or cut some barbed wire..."

"Alright, alright," laughed the Doctor, lying back on the bed, "Don't worry. Although why you can't just let your hair dry naturally, I have no idea. You do realise that hairdryers damage the hair, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. But how else am I supposed to get it in exactly the right style? My hair gets seriously messed up when I let it dry naturally."

"Can't be worse than how it looked covered in Berjar slime," quipped the Doctor. He gently took the Sonic Screwdriver from her hand and pocketed it, "Well, looks like we'll have to go out and buy you a new hairdryer."

"Can't you fix this one?"

"I thought I told you - you've completely destroyed the inner wiring."

"Yeah, but you're the Doctor. You can fix anything, can't you?"

"Well, yes I can. When you're a genius and know how to use a Sonic Screwdriver…" He sat up suddenly, "Hang on… How about a _sonic _hairdryer? Of course! That's brilliant! It'll dry your hair twice as fast without the damage and…" A thoughtful look came over his face, "Actually, might be particularly suited to my kind of hair. With a sonic action you could really pinpoint the direction of the hot air. Completely ionised, of course…" He stood up, grinning. "I've always said I'm a genius."

"Yep, you have," said Rose, slightly sarcastically, "Although what you're going on about, I have no idea."

"Rose," he announced, picking up the hairdryer, "I think I might be able to fix your hairdryer for you."

"Thanks," smiled Rose, gratefully. "I'm quite attached to this one."

"I might happen to make a few improvements…"

Rose groaned and lay back on the bed, covering her face with her hands.

"Shut up," he warned her, "It'll be brilliant. Anyway, I'll fix your hairdryer on one condition."

"Sounds like you're going to ruin it, more than fix it..." she muttered, "Alright, what's this 'condition'?"

"You let me borrow it afterwards."

* * *

Reviews are always very, berry welcome… 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: I'm ba-ack. With a new hair fic. But, to be honest, with this one… I like the idea, but not the fic. Meh.

**Disclaimer: Belongs to the big B B of C.**

* * *

"What's wrong?" asked Rose, lazily, from her position on the sofa. She was watching the Doctor fuss over his reflection in the mirror. 

The Doctor grimaced at himself, turning his head to the side and then straining his eyes to see the back.

"It's just that there are all these… _wispy _bits at the back."

"Let me guess," said Rose, stretching a little, "We're talking about your hair?"

"What else would I be talking about?" demanded the Doctor, slightly exasperated, "Wispy bits of my suit jacket? Although, actually, thinking about it, you can have that. When you have a low quality fabric, the suit tends to go a bit funny at the back. I struggled with that for years until we sorted it out. Have to have the know how, really. But, that's irrelevant. And because this suit is as well made as possible, no, Rose, I am not talking about wispy bits of my suit."

"Ok," Rose raised her hands up in mock surrender, "Point taken. You can calm down now, if you like."

"I don't get it," moaned the Doctor, "I'm not ginger and I have wispy bits!"

"There's a very simple solution, you know," said Rose, casually.

"Oh?" Said the Doctor, wheeling round to face her properly, "And what's that?"

"Cut it," said Rose, as if it was obvious.

"I suppose," mused the Doctor, "Although it's really hard to get the scissors around the back of my head. Also, you can never really see what you're doing…"

"You don't do it," laughed Rose, "You get someone else to."

"Oh. Right. Well. I suppose I'd have to choose the right planet and time… I mean hairstyling's always a dodgy process, especially when you've got all of time and the universe to choose from. Plus, you can't always tell with hairdressers. Funny lot. For instance, I would never step foot inside a hairdresser Jackie had been to…"

"Well," interrupted Rose, loudly, "You could go on considering different galaxies and years and making up cheap shots about my mum - which I'm not going to let slide, by the way - or…"

"Or?" demanded the Doctor, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Or you could let me cut it," finished Rose, lightly.

The Doctor stared at her in confusion for a while, before weakly saying, "Let you cut it?"

Rose nodded calmly and from her eyes he could see she was completely serious.

"Oh no," he said, inadvertently taking a step backwards, "Rose, I would trust you with my life, but not my hair."

"Don't be stupid," she grinned, "Besides, you were the one who suggested I should be a hairdresser."

"But that was a joke!" he protested, "Anyway, even if I said you could be a hairdresser, it doesn't mean you automatically have the _skill_…"

"I used to cut Shireen's hair for her, sometimes, and she never complained."

"Yeah, but she was a human," argued the Doctor, "Humans have funny taste."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," said Rose.

She stepped forward and grabbing his hand, started to drag him out of the Control Room.

"Come on," she said, "Won't hurt a bit, I promise."

"Really, Rose," he started to gabble, "I quite like the wispy bits. In a way, they're attractive. And you know, I don't think they matter so much. Not enough for you cut them off, anyway…" But he could see it was useless and he was forced to trail miserably behind her, wondering when she had got so strong.

* * *

"Right," said Rose, once she had got the Doctor established in a chair in one of the TARDIS' larger bathrooms, "You just want me to trim the back?" 

"Actually, I don't want you to 'just trim' anything. I'm being forced into this, I'll remind you." He grumbled, glaring at her reflection in the mirror.

"Everything will be fine," soothed Rose, "Anyway, you were the one making a big fuss over the wispy bits."

"May I never complain again," muttered the Doctor, darkly.

Rose rolled her eyes.

"First wispy bits, next stop mullet," she cautioned, wisely.

Gently, she placed each hand on either side of his head and looked at him in the mirror.

"Now," she said, "You need to keep your head straight."

The Doctor started a little as he felt the warmth of her hands on his face and managed to brightly reply, "Will do!" Which, afterwards, struck him as a really stupid thing to say.

She then proceeded to gently start combing his hair. Something the Doctor had to admit was very relaxing.

"You really do have big hair!" exclaimed Rose, as she dragged the comb through the hair.

"Mmmhmm." agreed the Doctor, still watching her in the mirror.

She finished combing and then straightened his head again.

"You've gone a bit quiet," she remarked, an imperceptible smile on her face.

"Have I?" asked the Doctor, trying to sound careless, "Must just be the concern over what you're going to do to my hair."

"Relax," said Rose. Then she picked up the scissors and carefully began to snip at the hair at the back of his head.

The Doctor felt her fingers gently comb through his hair, as she used the scissors, and wondered what on Earth he was doing. He knew there was a reason why he wasn't supposed to be enjoying this moment, but he couldn't quite remember what the reason was. In fact, he couldn't see what there was to be grumpy about at all. He followed Rose's reflection in the mirror and smiled slightly at her frown of concentration, complete with tongue poking out the side of her mouth.

He jumped slightly when Rose ran her hand through his hair and announced, "All done!"

"All done?" repeated the Doctor, somewhat lamely.

"Yep, I'm finished." confirmed Rose, "You only wanted to get rid of the wispy bits and so that's what I've done."

"Well, seeing as how you're there…" began the Doctor, "The bits at the side, there, have been irritating me a little, too. Think you could manage those?"

"I thought you implied that I was incapable of cutting hair."

"Maybe I've revised my opinion," said the Doctor, defensively.

Rose folded her arms and looked at him defiantly, in the mirror.

"Ok," sighed the Doctor, after a long pause, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you could cut hair."

"You're forgiven," grinned Rose, starting on the side of his head, while the Doctor settled comfortably and contentedly back in the chair.

* * *

"How's that?" asked Rose, a little moment later, gingerly fluffing out the Doctor's hair. 

"Very nice," he grinned. Their eyes met in the mirror and they held each other's gaze.

The Doctor coughed. "You know, you really could set up your own salon."

"Thanks," smiled Rose and started to brush the excess hair off the Doctor's shoulders, "I'll keep that in mind if the travelling doesn't work out."

"I'm not saying that I wanted you to open a salon…" said the Doctor, as he stood up.

"I know," laughed Rose and starting to pack them away.

"What are you doing?" demanded the Doctor.

"Well, you hate it when I leave a mess," said Rose, looking at him curiously, "So I'm tidying up."

"What, already?" he asked.

"Well, yeah," said Rose, slowly and carefully, "I've finished cutting your hair."

"Oh, but that's not fair. Don't I get to cut yours?"

* * *

Whaddaya think? Pleath drop me a line and tell me… 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **This is very loosely a hair fic and really very random. But I put it in here because it follows on immediately after the last one…

**Disclaimer**: If I owned it, do you seriously think I would be writing fics about the Doctor's hair?

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"Well, I think it all turned out for the best, Rose," remarked the Doctor, as they left the hairdresser's.

"Don't," warned Rose, fixing him with a dangerous glare.

"What?" Demanded the Doctor, innocently, "I think it suits you. And besides, I thought women were always reinventing themselves. Changing their image and starting something new… Like Madonna."

"Madonna is a one off," said Rose, through gritted teeth. "Anyway," she continued, more forcefully, "I had just grown my hair to a length I was happy with. And then you - _you_…" She shook her head, too angry to finish her sentence.

"It was only a _little _uneven," protested the Doctor, "And it was my first try."

"Uneven?" Exploded Rose, "There was a difference of a good three inches!" She self-consciously touched the ends of her hair, "And now it's back up to my chin," she murmured, glumly.

"I think it looks really good," said the Doctor, encouragingly.

Rose snorted.

"No, really," he said, more sincerely, "It suits you."

Rose regarded him, inscrutably for a few seconds, before sighing.

"I don't know what I was thinking, letting you cut my hair, anyway."

The Doctor shifted, uncomfortably. The truth was, he did feel guilty about it. He had only wanted to try cutting her hair and had believed he'd have no problem. It was hard to believe there would be something he couldn't do. Anyway, he was sure he would have been much better, if he hadn't been cutting _Rose's _hair. Because although he wasn't sure entirely what it was, there was something very distracting about having her sit so quietly in front of him, while he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair and gently snipped and cut. And then there was the small thrill of pride he got when she had informed him (rather curtly) that the only reason she was anxious was not, as he had assumed, because he might end up hurting her, but more, rather, that he was going to mess up her hair. A fear that had proved to be not completely unfounded.

On an impulse, the Doctor reached out and gently took her hand.

"I'm sorry." He said, seriously, looking her in the eye.

Rose gazed back at him for a while, before giving him a small smile.

"It's ok," she said, at last, "Don't worry about it. But you're going to have to find some way of making it up to me, you know."

"I know," replied the Doctor, earnestly, "And I will, you know. There are so many brilliant places we've still got left to go to…"

"It's so unfair," complained Rose, "How am I ever supposed to stay angry with you, when you have a time and space machine?"

"That's the beauty of having a TARDIS," grinned the Doctor, "She always helps me avoid a proper argument."

Rose shoved him in the shoulder. "I'm not sure she'd appreciate being used in that way, Doctor. Anyway. Come on - let's go pay my mum a visit."

"Rose," moaned the Doctor, "Do we have to?"

"Of course we have to." Replied Rose shortly.

"Fine," sighed the Doctor, "Although I really don't see why you had to come back and have your hair cut _here_. I offer you all of time and space and yet you choose to go to that little place, round the corner from your mum. I could have taken you anywhere, you know, anywhere! And seeing as how I have unlimited credit, I could have bought you a haircut at any salon. But, instead, you go to a run-down little place run by a woman with yellow hair!"

"I know," answered Rose, "And I must have been mad to pass all that up. But old loyalties die hard. And Paula's a really good friend of the family. Anyway, let's go see mum," she finished, shooting him a stern look. "You definitely owe me."

"Alright, alright. Let's go visit Jackie. Yay."

Shaking her head, Rose took his arm and began leading him to her mum's flat.

The visit to her mum's was not exactly as Rose had anticipated. Instead of finding her mother alone and pleased to see her, she found her mother surrounded by five little children and her best friend from school.

"Rose, sweetheart," beamed Jackie, coming over and enveloping her in a hug, "Look at you, dropping in just as Sarah's come over. Go and say hello to Sarah. And you've cut your hair and all. It's nice. Preferred it longer, but it's nice."

Rose raised her eyes at the Doctor after her mum's last comment.

"Come on, then," said Jackie, turning her attention to the Doctor, "Give us a hug."

"Oh, alright, then," said the Doctor, quickly hugging Jackie.

"Sarah," called Jackie, "This is the Doctor. Rose's… friend."

Once the introductions had been made, Jackie and Sarah excused themselves to go and chat, delighted to have found last-minute babysitters. Rose and the Doctor stared at the five, hyperactive children in dismay.

"Just to warn you," said Rose, picking up one of the kids who had started to cry, "If you make one snide comment about 'doing domestic' I will biff you one."

"It never crossed my mind," said the Doctor, smoothly.

She watched as the Doctor crossed the room and effortlessly engaged three little girls' attention. For all his claims to avoid domesticity like the plague, he wasn't half bad at it.

Satisfied that he would be able to handle himself, Rose wandered into the kitchen to fix a drink, still carrying the little boy on her hip.

The kettle had just boiled when Rose heard the Doctor's frantic calls from the sitting room. She was just debating whether to leave him for another few seconds and pour the water, when the Doctor positively screamed her name.

Rolling her eyes, she quickly marched out the door and into the lounge.

The Doctor was sitting on the couch, with one dark haired six year old sitting on his lap. Rose would not have guessed that there was anything wrong if it hadn't been for the Doctor's eyes. Because his newly brown eyes seemed to reflect a perfect example of pure, unadulterated panic.

"What's wrong?" Asked Rose, setting the child down.

"The little girl. This little girl. She…"

"Ok, calm down," instructed Rose, crossing the room and gently removing the little girl from the Doctor's lap. "Now tell me: what on earth did she do?"

The Doctor looked up at Rose, then lifted one hand to feel the back of his head.

"She put her bubblegum in my hair! Just lifted up her hand and stuck a pink piece of gum in… my _hair_." In a daze, he mimicked the little girls' actions.

Rose bit her lip firmly, realising she was in great danger of laughing. Loudly.

"What were you doing, giving bubblegum to a six year old? There's a reason why small children generally aren't allowed it, you know."

"I always thought that was to prevent them choking! And God knows, I could stop a little girl choking… Hang on, you mean all this time, you've denied little children bubblegum simply because it might mess up your hair?"

"No, Doctor. I was just saying. Aside from the part where they swallow it or choke, there's always the added risk that they'll get it stuck in their hair. Not often that it's someone else's hair, mind you."

"Oh, great. I feel so privileged," muttered the Doctor. "Now we've finished discussing the fact that small children and bubblegum definitely don't mix, would you please do something about this?"

Rose grinned down at the Doctor. He was completely powerless in the face of the situation. And it was only a piece of bubblegum in his hair.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, get it out, obviously."

Rose sighed. "Hang on, let me find some scissors."

"Scissors?" Squeaked the Doctor, "Rose, I have bubblegum in my hair. This is not the time for you to go paying me back for what I did."

"Shut up," called Rose, over her shoulders, "The scissors are merely a precaution. Just in case I can't work it free with my fingers."

The Doctor sighed and folded his arms.

"This is disgusting. I mean, really. What kind of a child would do that, anyway? Just.. take their gum out and stick it in someone's hair? I was telling her a story, too, Rose, a really good one. I suppose that's gratitude for you. I am never giving another child any of my Hubba Bubba ever again. They're going to want to watch that little girl, I can tell you. Bubblegum today…flesh-eating kundrel sweets tomorrow. Although that's probably unlikely…"

"Would you, please," said Rose, standing in front of him, "shut up?"

The Doctor swallowed as he eyed the scissors Rose had set on the coffee table.

"Just… save what you can," he pleaded, quietly.

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Argh, they're getting longer and longer! Let me know if they're getting _too _long…


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hehe. More fun with Ten's big hair. Written while I was slightly hyper. And I've been rather cruel to Rose in this one…

**Disclaimer**: You know it's not mine.

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"Doctor?" asked Rose, striding purposefully into the control room, "Doctor?"

"Hang on," came his muffled reply, from somewhere roughly beneath her feet, "Be with you in a minute."

With barely suppressed impatience, Rose waited for the Doctor to emerge.

"Right, yes," he said, crawling out of a small hole in the floor, "Everything all right?" He took off his glasses and grinned at her.

"Would you happen to know anything about this?" asked Rose, politely, motioning to her right hand.

The Doctor took in her wet, matted hair and the empty conditioner bottle she was holding. His grin faded.

"Ah, ok. Right, well… I'm sorry, Rose, but I've been using your shampoo."

"Conditioner." corrected Rose, automatically.

"Conditioner," amended the Doctor, "Sorry. Anyway, yeah. I've been borrowing it without asking and… that was very wrong of me. So sorry."

Rose shook her head, "That's the not the point, Doctor. The point is that you _finished _it. So when I went to have a shower just now, there was no conditioner left."

"Didn't you have any two-in-one? I had some two-in-one, once, and it was very good…"

"No," said Rose, through gritted teeth, "I did not have any two-in-one."

"Just as well, then. It wasn't really all that good. Left my hair feeling kind of sticky, you know? Not what I wanted. And there was never the _shine _you get with separate shampoo and conditioner. I mean, my hair was clean, yes. But nothing special…" He trailed off as he noticed Rose glaring at him.

"I'm really not interested in two-in-one," she said, with enforced calm, "What I want to know is, why you snuck into my bathroom and borrowed this particular conditioner. And then finished it. Without asking."

"You want to know all that?" asked the Doctor, slightly disbelieving, "Because that's an awful lot of questions… Right," he said, as Rose gave him a very pointed look, "You do. I suppose I'll have to answer them separately. The reason why I borrowed your conditioner," he said, skimming over the sneaking-into-her-bathroom part, "Is because I noticed that you had volumising conditioner. 'Volumising'" he repeated, speaking to himself, "Not a word, but I like it…"

"Doctor," said Rose, interrupting his private thoughts, "you already have big hair. In fact, you're always going on about your big hair. So why would you want to give your hair added volume?"

"Well, you know what they say: 'If you're going to have big hair, you may as well have _really _big hair.'… Actually, I don't think anyone's ever said that. But they ought to have done. I just thought that while I've got this new, big hair I may as well take it to its new, big limits. You know?" He took in Rose's nonplussed expression. "No? Ok, clearly you don't…"

"But why did you have to finish it!"

"She's really not going to let this go, is she?" sighed the Doctor, probably to the TARDIS. "Alright, Rose, what do you want me to do?"

"I just want some conditioner! Otherwise my hair's going to turn into a matted mess!"

"Sorry, Rose, but I think you'll find your hair's already turned into a matted mess." pointed out the Doctor, unwisely, but gently.

"I am going," said Rose, restraining her anger with a lot of difficulty, "to pretend I didn't hear that. And you - big conditioner stealer that you are - are going to land the TARDIS somewhere with a 21st Century Tesco, and buy me more conditioner. And we need some more chocolate biscuits, while you're at it."

"But Rose," whined the Doctor, "You know I hate supermarket shopping. Why can't you go?"

"Because, as you so kindly pointed out, my hair is currently a matted mess."

"I thought you said you were going to pretend not to have heard that," said the Doctor, with some confusion.

Rose screamed, completely infuriated. "Would you just get me some conditioner! It should be no problem for you, seeing as how your hair is currently perfectly shiny and clean and smooth and… volumised!"

"It is, isn't it?" grinned the Doctor, smoothing his hair, slightly. "Oh, right," he said, hastily, as Rose fixed him with a death stare, "I'll go get you conditioner. Don't you worry your matted haired head about it. You're no fun today," he grumbled, quietly.

"I'm sorry," apologised Rose, "I'm never in the best mood when I'm walking around with a birds' nest on top of my head."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I think you carry it off quite well."

Shaking her head in frustration, Rose stomped off in the direction of the kitchen.

"Honestly," said the Doctor, as the TARDIS landed and he pulled on his coat, "I haven't seen her that annoyed since the last time I forgot to stock up on tea."

He had just got to the door, when he heard a furious shriek, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

"Oh," he said, quietly, looking thoughtful. "Ah. Time to go, I think."

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Hehe, I had fun writing this one. If only because I was in such a strange, strange mood. Review::attempts puppy dog eyes::


	6. Chapter 6

Goodness goodness gracious gracious me. Is that really a hair care update I see? Is that causing me to rhyme so terribly? I suppose I'll have to wait and see…

Ok, I'm done with the bad rhyming. But, my point is… yes, after a long and wearied break (whatever that means) I have managed to write an update! About the Doctor's hair. How exciting. There are a few problems, though. I was very pleased with the conditioner chapter, but I feel that this one does not match it. Also, having been away from ffn so long, and it being so long since season two ended, I am a leetle bit rusty, as far as writing Ten is concerned. But I have tried my best. School has sucked out any semblance of creativity from me, but I'm hoping you'll roll with it and enjoy what you can… Please accept my heartfelt apologies.

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still the BBC's. And yes, I am still bitter.**

* * *

Rose simultaneously took a sip of tea and turned the page of the magazine, continuing to read the article she was completely absorbed in. It was all about the detrimental effect plastic surgery had on young women from the planet Zeth and it was absolutely fascinating, in a horrific way. She had no idea what a 'zelteth' nose looked like, but the process of getting one sounded decidedly painful. She was so engrossed, she never even heard the Doctor enter the room. 

The Doctor coughed just as she took another mouthful of tea.

Rose looked up and promptly spat her tea all over the magazine.

"Ah," said the Doctor, wrinkling his nose a little, in disgust, "Ah. That would be a not good reaction."

Rose only widened her eyes at him and proceeded to start choking.

"Alright, alright," said the Doctor, with some irritation, "No need to take it too far. I was quite capable of getting the message from the way you spat out that tea." He narrowed his eyes at her, as she showed no sign of stopping. "I mean it, Rose. That really isn't very nice. I could get offended."

Rose started shaking her head at him and waving her hands around in a slightly panicked manner.

"Oh," said the Doctor, with sudden urgency, hastening over to her side, "Well, that's a different matter, altogether. You should have said."

He proceeded to thump her roughly on the back.

"Ok?" He asked, as her breathing seemed to become more regular. He started to rub, rather than thump, her on the back, "Better? I hope so, because otherwise, I would have to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on you and to be honest, I'm not sure you'd appreciate it. Well, obviously, I'm hoping that if it saved your life, you'd appreciate it. But the actual manoeuvre…. That's not so nice to be on the receiving end of. Trust me. I was once Heimliched - unnecessarily, might I add - by a six foot three, obese alien from the planet Frood, with terrible BO. One of the most terrifying experiences of my life. I still have nightmares." He trailed off and shuddered at the memory.

Next to him, on the bed, Rose was sitting with her eyes closed, breathing heavily and trying to calm down.

"Ok?" He asked, more gently.

Rose nodded. "Thank you," she said, still with her eyes closed. She smiled slightly. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to face him. And then burst out laughing.

"Oh, fine," said the Doctor, huffily, folding his arms, "Fine. I just saved your life and stopped you choking to death, but never mind that. Let's laugh at the Doctor's hair, instead. Because that's really an appropriate and mature way of thanking him."

"I'm sor…sor…sorry," spluttered Rose, "It's just… well….what… why…have you done?"

"What why have I done?" Repeated the Doctor, slowly. "I styled it slightly differently, that's all. No need for the hysterics and dramatics and choking… Actually, Rose, how could you have had a proper choking attack simply from a cup of tea? And after spitting it out, too. That defies all logic."

"I spat out the tea, then swallowed my gum," clarified Rose, simply, finally seeming to gain control of her giggles. She began to wipe the magazine page, in an attempt to salvage the article.

"Oh, God, Rose," grimaced the Doctor, "Gum _and _tea? That's disgusting. Have I taught you nothing? I mean, really, in terms of disgustingness, that's got to be pretty high up. I'm thinking that on a scale ranging from absolutely delicious to incomprehensibly foul and disgusting, that would rank right up at the-"

"Oi. It's not as bad as some of the stuff _you _eat, thanks." Interrupted Rose, loudly, "Anyway, can we please discuss your hair?"

"What's there to discuss?" Demanded the Doctor, gingerly patting his head, "I think it makes me look rather dashing."

Rose snorted. "I would love to know what was running through your mind when you slathered gel all over your head, picked up your comb and thought, '_hmmm, I think a side-parting would look rather dashing_'."

"Actually," pointed out the Doctor, "you just said what was running through my mind. I was thinking, _'hmmm, I think a side-parting would look rather dashing_.' And I was right, wasn't I?"

"Um, not really, Doctor," said Rose, rather warily, "A side-parting is one thing. But a side-parting involving that amount of gel is quite another."

The Doctor frowned at her. Standing up, he wandered cautiously over to the mirror on Rose's wall.

He studied his reflection. His big hair had been tamed by about half a pot of gel. It now shone brilliantly at him; a shine that was rather blinding and not unlike the kind of shine you get from very wet hair. Or, indeed, a pot of hair gel. And amidst all this gel-induced, shining splendour was a painstakingly etched side-parting, exposing a neat, and rather white, line of scalp.

The Doctor sighed. "Do you really think it doesn't work?"

"It doesn't," said Rose, firmly, "You look like a greasy Hugh Grant, in his younger years."

The Doctor looked confused. "I thought women found Hugh Grant attractive."

"Maybe they do. But I'm willing to bet it's the middle-aged women who think he is a 'charmingly sweet boy'."

"Cary Grant had a side parting," offered the Doctor, suddenly.

"He did. And at that time, with that face, it looked good," smiled Rose.

"Oh. So… people… well, someone like you, for instance, would not find this particular hairstyle attractive..."

"Not really," said Rose, but more gently, "I just don't think it's really _you_, Doctor. You know, you have a different facial shape. And, besides, I would not touch that amount of gel with a barge pole. My hand would get stuck to it."

"I see," nodded the Doctor, sadly.

Rose smiled at him, sweetly. "Hey, don't worry. Personally, I don't think you need to change your hairstyle. I thought it was pretty… sexy as it was. You have big hair, as you keep on saying. Whatever happened to embracing it? You don't need a change."

"Do you really think so?" Asked the Doctor, brightening somewhat, "I was going for a more classic look, but if you say I don't need to… And you're right: I have big hair and I'm proud of it. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to crush it under a mountain of gel. Less is more, after all. Less gel, more hair. That really ought to be my aim. Actually, that ought to be my mantra or something. It has quite a nice ring to it..." He beamed at Rose, "I'm going to get rid of this stupid side-parting, immediately."

"Good," grinned Rose, "Only…."

"Only what?" Asked the Doctor, anxiously, pausing in the doorway.

"I suggest you wash all that gel out of your hair first."

* * *

**For the love of the Doctor, the TARDIS and anything related to the Doctor's hair… please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: And the madness continues…

All credit for this idea goes to **Chorus girl 24601**. I only hope that I've done the marvellous idea justice…

**Disclaimer**: **Doesn't belong to me and never will. How depressing.**

* * *

"There you are!" exclaimed Rose, rounding a corner in the corridor and coming across the Doctor, "You've been hiding for ages." 

The Doctor froze and stared around somewhat shiftily. "I told you I was having a shower," he muttered, somewhat vaguely.

"Well, yeah," answered Rose, "but you don't normally take that long."

She peered at him, curiously. The lighting in the corridor had dimmed quite dramatically, she suddenly realised, and she couldn't really see him all that clearly.

"You alright?" she asked, with some concern.

"Me?" He jerked his head up and began nodding vigorously, "Fine. I'm just as fine as two big, round shiny buttons… Oh, you use that with 'bright', don't you? Never mind. Point still stands. I, Rose Tyler, am as fine as a fine thing can possibly be."

"Right…" She stared at him some more, trying to work out exactly what was going on. "Um, you want to come and have a cup of tea? Or if you want, I could drink tea, you could annoy the TARDIS by fixing something that isn't broken…"

The Doctor looked shifty, and alarmed Rose by failing to pick up on her slight against his TARDIS maintenance. "Sounds very tempting… but there's this thing… I have to go and do… in another part of the TARDIS."

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, "You wouldn't be avoiding me, would you, Doctor?"

"Avoiding you?" yelped the Doctor, in an incredibly suspicious way, "Why on earth would I be avoiding you? No. To avoid you, I would obviously have to have a reason to do so. And because, as we have already established, I am completely and utterly fine, I have absolutely no reason to avoid you. No reason at all. I just have things to do. Busy being a genius and all that. So, you know. See you later…"

He strode off, mumbling to himself.

Rose shook her head, "Nutter," she muttered to herself.

As soon as the Doctor had disappeared round a corner, the lighting in the corridor brightened again.

"Alright," said Rose, to her surroundings, "you're clearly in on this too. So I wouldn't mind knowing what the hell is going on."

She waited, but there was no response.

"Fine," she sighed, "Tea it is, then."

* * *

Rose sat in one of the lounge areas of the TARDIS, flicking through an old book she'd found. Even with all of time and space at her disposal, she had failed to find anything half-watchable on the TV and so had resorted to reading a children's story book from a strange planet where - as far as she could tell - all the adults wore tea-cosies on their heads. That could have been part of the story, but she wasn't altogether sure. 

She looked up as the Doctor suddenly burst into the room and her eyes widened.

"I know," sighed the Doctor, dramatically, "It's awful, isn't it?"

"What the… I don't…" Rose gave up on forming a sentence and settled for, "_Why_?"

"Well," said the Doctor, somewhat sheepishly, "I thought it might turn my hair ginger. It didn't of course. It's just a blatant red. Which is silly, because it doesn't even look natural."

"It doesn't even come _close _to natural," said Rose, eying the Doctor's alarmingly red hair, "Did it never cross your mind that people don't make stuff to dye hair properly ginger?"

"Why not?" whined the Doctor, running a hand through his now startling hair, "It's a terrible display of discrimination. Why shouldn't we be able to dye our hair ginger? I've always wanted to be ginger, Rose, always. And, well, I was bored and just, you know, happened to find this thing of hair dye…."

"Oh my God," said Rose, suddenly, sitting bolt upright, "Was it permanent, or semi-?"

"Semi," stated the Doctor, glumly, his hands firmly shoved into his pockets.

"Well, that's something," said Rose, consolingly, inwardly very relieved. "You'll just have to wash it a lot…" she looked again at the bright, bright hair, "An awful lot…"

The Doctor seemed to recover a little and said, "Well, I'm hoping I can make up something which will take it out… I'm a genius, after all. Stands to reason that I can do a spot of hairdressing…"

"I think we've already found out that you really can't," reminded Rose, sourly.

"Alright, alright. And I apologised… But this is chemical stuff… I can do chemical stuff in my sleep. Easy."

"Well, I hope you can," said Rose, finally, "because I have a terrible feeling we'll only get arrested if we go out with you looking like that…Although," she added, more to herself, "being arrested wouldn't really make much of a change. The charge just might be different."

She looked up at the Doctor's morose expression and laughed.

"Don't look so depressed! It's not all that bad. It could have been worse, you know. It could have gone green. That happened to me once…" She shuddered vaguely at the memory. "Do you need a hand, with this working out how to fix it business?"

"Yeah," said the Doctor, brightening slightly, "That'd be good. If you wouldn't mind."

"'Course not," smiled Rose. "Come on, then. Let's go sort this out. Take me to your lab and all that." She glanced again at his wounded expression, "It's not the end of the world. For once."

She gave him a quick hug and he gave her a slight, little-boy smile.

"Come on," she said, taking his hand and pulling him out into the corridor.

He shuffled along behind her. "I only wanted to be ginger," he murmured, sadly.

"We'll fix it," reassured Rose, bravely ruffling the ruby red hair, "And if we can't, we'll just take you to a hairdresser."

The Doctor considered this, before slyly grinning, "Well, if we do end up going to a hairdresser, it certainly won't be the one your mum uses."

"There we go," sighed Rose, "back to insulting mum. You're feeling better already."

* * *

Please review! It might spur me on to write the next one… 


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Ooohhh. I've been stressing over this one. I'm really not sure why, but it just doesn't seem quite _right_. But perhaps you could take a look? Either to reassure me, or to point out what's causing the uncertainty, hehe.

'Tis odd and blurry long…

(Would've put it up earlier, if ffn had had the decency to let me upload it. Grrr…)

Disclaimer: Blimey, if you haven't got the message by now, I don't think you ever will… Not. Mine.

* * *

"I still don't see why we're visiting again," moaned the Doctor, sullenly tramping up the stairs.

"Because she's my mum," answered Rose, lightly, "Besides, I think you secretly like visiting her, you know."

"I do not!" exclaimed the Doctor, outraged, "I'd rather have my new teeth pulled, than visit your mother."

"Liar," laughed Rose, happily. "You love it. The motherly comfort, the endless cups of tea, the gossip from round the estate…"

The Doctor shook his head violently. "You," he said, emphatically, "have got it all wrong."

They arrived outside the flat door, "Now," Rose warned, pointing a threatening finger in the Doctor's face, "behave."

"Me?" asked the Doctor, innocently, "I'm always well behaved."

Rose frowned disbelievingly, but swung the door open, anyway.

"Mum?" She called, walking into the flat, "It's only us."

"Us," muttered the Doctor, "still don't see why it has to be 'us'. You could've come on your own, you know."

Jackie rushed out of the sitting room, grinning broadly.

"I could have," answered Rose, quietly, "but it's not like you would have let me."

"Mum!" She called, rushing in to hug Jackie tightly.

"Oh, sweetheart," cooed Jackie, hugging Rose back, "it's lovely to see you, of course, but do you never think of calling ahead?"

"Sorry," apologised Rose, as Jackie released her, "we didn't think of that."

"I bet you didn't," scowled Jackie, before turning her attention to the Doctor. "Come on then," she said, cheerfully, holding out her arms.

"I really don't thin- Oh, never mind." He moved forward to give her a quick hug, becoming slightly alarmed as she hugged him for longer, and more tightly, than he was comfortable with.

"Oh," said Jackie, as she let go and the Doctor staggered backwards, "you're quite lovely now, you are. Although…" she peered at him curiously, "What have you done to your hair?"

"Nothing, it's just the light," gabbled the Doctor, at the same time as Rose said, "Just the sun."

The Doctor and Rose both avoided catching the other's eye. Jackie looked at them. "Both mad, you are. Probably exhausted, though... Shall I go put some tea on?"

"That'd be great, mum, thanks," smiled Rose.

"I've got some new mugs from Trina down at the market," said Jackie, talking her way into the kitchen, "I wasn't sure about them at first, but her friend, Mark - lovely man - he said they were very practical and so I bought them. Haven't been using any other mugs since. And you know what-"

Rose tuned out her mother's rambling - not all that dissimilar to the Doctor's, she noted, half-amused - and turned instead to look at the Doctor. He was standing awkwardly by the sofa, self-consciously patting his hair.

"It's not that noticeable," he asked her, anxiously, "is it?"

"No, no," soothed Rose, "Mum just hasn't seen you for a while, that's all."

"Yeah, that's probably it," said the Doctor, only half-convinced. "Still, it's not the end of the world if she doesn't like my hair. She couldn't disapprove of me anymore than she already does…"

He flopped down on the sofa and switched on the TV.

"You look comfortable," grinned Rose. She watched as he flicked to a news channel, "Now don't you go finding some mysterious news item that needs investigating."

The Doctor turned and looked at her, seriously. "Nothing would distract me from visiting Jackie, Rose."

Rose was about to tell him off for obvious sarcasm, when Jackie emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tray of tea mugs. "Do you remember Becky's cat, love?" she asked Rose.

"Yeah. Why?" Rose took two mugs from the tray, setting one down in front of the Doctor, before plonking herself down next to him.

"I've been looking after it while she's away. Becky's jetted off to Mallorca with some man she met down the pub. Quite the scandal round here, I can tell you. But lucky her, I say. Anyway, I've been looking after her cat. It's quite nice, really. Keeps me company, but doesn't half make a mess with its food."

Rose laughed, "Where is it now?"

"I expect it'll be coming in soon, for its tea. You can fuss over it then."

The Doctor groaned slightly.

"What's his problem?" demanded Jackie.

Rose elbowed him. "He's not really a cat person." said Rose, wrinkling her nose. "He used to be," she said, as Jackie shot the Doctor a disapproving look, "Kind of. But then we ended up getting nearly-" she broke off, realising the story was probably not worth telling. At least, not worth the hysterical Jackie that was bound to follow. "Anyway, never mind."

* * *

The Doctor eyed Rose, as she sat on the floor, fussing over the cat. 

"Aren't you adorable," cooed Rose, as the cat purred loudly, "yes you are. So soft and fluffy. You're beautiful. And look at your gorgeous fur! Beautiful."

The Doctor scowled.

"Come on," said Rose, picking the cat up and sitting back down next to the Doctor, "let's cure the Doctor of his unnecessary prejudice."

"Hardly unnecessary," muttered the Doctor, "Anyway," he said, more loudly, "can't be right to allow the animals to go running over the furniture like that. Didn't think your mum'd approve of such a thing."

"And since when did you become so house proud?" laughed Rose, "Go on," she said, elbowing the Doctor, "give him a stroke. There's nothing wrong with a beautiful, friendly cat."

The Doctor looked at Rose, reluctantly, but a few seconds of her most beguiling smile had him reaching out and quickly stroking the cat.

"There," he said, shortly, "happy now?"

"How about scratching him behind the ears?" teased Rose, "He loves that, don't you?" She leant down to give the cat an affectionate kiss, on the top of its head.

"Honestly, Rose," said the Doctor, in a scandalised tone, "you've only known that cat five minutes."

Rose looked at him in astonishment, soon seeing the glint in his eyes. She burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" asked Jackie, coming into the room, bearing more cups of tea.

"Nothing," said Rose, shaking her head, "just getting to know the cat."

* * *

"See, that wasn't so bad," said Rose, as they wandered back to the TARDIS. 

"Hmmm," mused the Doctor.

"Oh, come on," said Rose, linking her arm through his, "was better than having your teeth pulled."

"Possibly," conceded the Doctor.

"Knew it," grinned Rose, happily.

"I said 'possibly'," corrected the Doctor, unlocking the TARDIS door, "That is not the same as a complete agreement."

"Close enough though," said Rose, poking her tongue out the side of her mouth. "And I think it was good for you to get out. Proves your hair is back to normal."

"You think?" asked the Doctor, pausing to run a hand through his almost completely brown hair, before he followed Rose into the TARDIS..

"Yeah," said Rose, confidently, "no one would notice a difference. Mum only said what she said because… um… because she's like that. But no one's ever gonna say anything. I'd say one more wash and it's gone completely." She paused, as the Doctor failed to comment, "You're a bit quiet."

She turned, to see the Doctor standing just inside the doorway, his mouth hanging open.

"What?" asked Rose, "What's wrong?"

He moved his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. Instead, he bleakly motioned to something in his hand. Puzzled, Rose marched over, to have a look.

"Grey… hair," managed the Doctor, hoarsely.

Rose bit her lip to suppress a laugh. "Let me see," she said, kindly, cupping the Doctor's hand in hers, so she could get a closer look.

She studied it closely for a few moments, as the Doctor merely stared on, despondently.

Finally, Rose took a step back and burst out laughing.

"Rose!" cried the Doctor, both very hurt and very angry, "You can't laugh! That's a grey hair... From _my _head. I'm going grey! Already. And this body's so new and I was so proud of this hair. I was so-" he stopped, suddenly, as a thought struck him, "Oh God, do you think I'm going grey because of the _hair dye_? I've messed up my hair ! First I dye it red and then I turn it grey. This is terrible. This is a disaster. And you - you - you just stand there laughing. I really don't see why you have to come and just-"

"Shut up!" yelled Rose, unable to take any more of the Doctor's panicked ranting.

"Shut up?" The Doctor stared at her in shock, "_Shut up_? This is a serious situation. I'm going grey! You can't just tell me to-"

"Doctor," said Rose, firmly, standing commandingly in front of him, "Shut. Up."

The Doctor glared at her with wounded eyes.

"First," said Rose, calmly, "look at the hair you are holding."

The Doctor looked.

"Do you honestly believe that that is a hair - a grey hair - from your own head?"

The Doctor nodded wordlessly.

Rose shook her head, smiling sadly. "Then you're clearly not the genius you're constantly claiming to be."

The Doctor stared at her in confusion. "Wha- What?"

Rose sighed, playing out her moment of superiority, "That, Doctor, is a cat hair."

The Doctor stared down at his hand in wonder. Realisation dawned and his face broke into an alarmingly wide grin.

"Cat hair! From the cat." he murmured, in wonder, "A grey guard hair from the _Felis catus, _of the _Felidae _family residing in Jackie's flat... Rose!" He exclaimed, joyfully, "Rose, I'm not going grey!" He enveloped her in an ecstatic hug.

"No," said Rose, in a slightly muffled voice, struggling to release herself from the Doctor's tight grip, "but I'd be quite ashamed, if I were you. Fancy that. Not being able to distinguish cat hair from your own. I would've thought you could smell the difference or something."

The Doctor looked a little sheepish, "I panicked," he said, simply, "obviously, I would have known in other circumstances…"

"Obviously," said Rose, sombrely. "But never mind that. As a nine hundred year old Time Lord, I would've thought grey hairs were the least of your worries."

"Well, of course," said the Doctor, airily. "Grey hairs, shmey hairs. They don't concern me in the slightest."

"Of course they don't," agreed Rose, "that little display back there was just for my amusement, wasn't it?"

"Exactly!" exclaimed the Doctor, "I'll do anything for a laugh, me."

They stared at each other solemnly for a few seconds, before Rose lost her self-control and snorted. "You are such a bad liar, you know. You were properly panicked."

"Maybe a little," admitted the Doctor grudgingly.

"I don't know why, though," said Rose, mischievously, "that red hair dye ought to have covered any grey hairs up."

"_Rose_," whined the Doctor, "I thought we weren't going to mention the hair dye!"

"Alright, alright. No fun, you are." She was quiet for a few seconds, "So… am I allowed to mention the fact that you just completely freaked out because you thought a cat hair was one of your grey hairs?"

"No," said the Doctor, through gritted teeth, "And, excuse me, what you do you mean, 'one of my grey hairs'? There's no proof that I have any yet! Time Lords might not even get grey hair. Well… they do, but that's not the point. I do not have grey hairs."

"Calm down," said Rose, struggling to suppress a laugh, "It's not like it matters. There's nothing wrong with grey hair. It happens to everyone in the end and it happens at all different ages, doesn't it? Just relax."

"Yes, well. I know. But I'm a little sensitive about hair colour since…" he trailed off, uncomfortably.

"Since the Hair Incident That Shall Not Be Named," supplemented Rose, helpful as ever.

"Exactly," said the Doctor hastily, rushing up to the main console, "Now, I think we should save some lives or a world or… something. I have a feeling my bravery and intelligence might need emphasising..."

* * *

Any comments and/or advice would be much appreciated…

And you… Go on…. Click the button… Stop lurking and review! Please? You know who you are…


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N: **_My, how school sucks up time. I wait for a spare minute to post this, and suddenly a whole week's gone by. Sorry...

This one's a little different, because I've actually managed to put it into a plot-ish context. I know, I know, I was shocked too…

All credit for this fantabulous idea goes to **The Noble Platypus**… Again, I hope I've done it justice.

**Disclaimer: Doesnae belong to me. Somehow, the BBC manages to tell stories about things other than his hair...**

* * *

"Ok, so… then what?" asked Rose, looking up at the Doctor, expectantly.

"Then," a proud smile spread over the Doctor's face, "three, two, one… Boom!"

He grinned smugly, expecting Rose to be impressed.

"You're kidding, right?" Rose stared at him, scornfully, "Three, two, one… Boom? How is that going to help?"

The Doctor looked crestfallen.

"It's a brilliant plan," he defended, wounded, "The intense heat is their natural enemy. Fire'll get rid of the egg-spores and carriers, burn up all the nests and put on a lovely show for the neighbours!"

"Not to mention _burning down Linda's house_," enunciated Rose.

"Ah. Well. That's obviously an unfortunate side-effect…"

"Unfortunate side-effect? Doctor, you can't just burn down a woman's house!"

"Why not? I've done it before…" the Doctor ignored Rose's look of disapproval, "And why can't I burn down a _woman's _house? Can I burn down a man's house?"

"No!" exclaimed Rose, "You can't burn down _anyone's _house. It's wrong."

"It's necessary!" Protested the Doctor, "It's the only way to get those things out of her house before the eggs hatch and infect the whole neighbourhood."

"There must be something you can do," implored Rose, striving for a better solution, "Linda's just a poor old lady. She needs that house."

The Doctor thought for a few seconds. Before uncertainly offering, "Compensation?"

Rose sighed, elaborately. "I was thinking more _relocation_."

"Relo-?" the Doctor shook his head, "Rose, do you know how much work that would require? They've infested the whole ground floor of her house. Removing them to somewhere else would be a nigh-on-impossible task."

"I'm sure you could figure out a way," said Rose, sweetly, "I mean, you are a genius, after all."

"Rose," sighed the Doctor, "It would be an awful, minutely detailed task. We'd need to find somewhere else safe. It would have to be reasonably near. We would need to find each _individual _egg, each _individual _nest and then safely carry them in an airtight container to the second location. We would need to do all of this within the next-" he looked at Rose's watch, "half an hour. Does that sound like a plausible plan to you?"

Rose bit her lip. "Uh… how many of these eggs did you say there were…?"

"I'm guessing there will probably be about… eight hundred? And just in case, we'll round that up. One thousand eggs. Rose, are you prepared to find one thousand individual eggs?"

Rose stared at the floor, feeling her resolve slipping. She thought of Linda - the small, curly haired, smiley old woman - and her determination returned.

"Doctor," she said, firmly, "I am not letting you burn down Linda's house. All her things would be destroyed and she'd end up with nowhere to live. And I will not let that happen."

Stressed, the Doctor ran a hand through his hair, instantly messing it up.

"Fine," he relented, "but if we don't remove all the eggs in time, we'll just have to blow it up anyway."

"Ok," said Rose. "We'll get them out in time."

"How?" demanded the Doctor.

"I don't know!" protested Rose, "You're the genius. Can't we just… I don't know… suck them all up, or something?"

"Suck them up?" repeated the Doctor, incredulously. He froze. "Suck them up? Actually… that's quite a good idea. That might actually work. If I… back on the TARDIS we can simply… then I could… Brilliant!"

Rose grabbed the Doctor by the shoulders. "You're not finishing your sentences," she said.

"Oh," the Doctor grabbed her shoulders in turn, and looking down at her, spoke urgently, "Right. Here's what we'll do. I'll concentrate on getting the eggs out the house… Linda'll have a vacuum cleaner, right? Yeah, of course she will…" he quickly shook his head, before he drifted off into his own thoughts again, "Rose, you need to be a location scout. Go find a building that you don't mind blowing up. Somewhere near, but uninhabited. Can't be more than five minutes away. Then come back here, and help with the moving. And for God's sake, be quick."

"Right," said Rose, immediately turning and sprinting off.

The Doctor shook his head, wearily. "The things she makes me do…"he muttered, before turning to run back to Linda's house.

* * *

The Doctor and Rose stood just on the road, breathlessly surveying the half-dilapidated, empty wooden hut Rose had miraculously managed to find.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe we managed that. With three minutes to spare. Can't believe it."

Rose grinned, triumphantly. "Told you we would. I can't believe you used a vacuum cleaner."

"Rose," the Doctor looked at her sternly, "It was not a 'vacuum cleaner' it was a vacuum cleaner I ingeniously enhanced in the TARDIS."

"So it was a souped up vacuum cleaner."

The Doctor scowled. "You have no appreciation for proper science, sometimes. Anyway, we better get this done." He took the Sonic Screwdriver out of his coat pocket, a wide, enthusiastic grin spreading over his face.

Rose stared at him incredulously, "You're really excited about this, aren't you?"

"What? Nah. Just routine, really." He struggled to contain his anticipation, "You know. It's the only way of getting rid of them, this explosion I'm creating."

Rose shook her head. "You love it. Big explosions, impressive fires. You're just a little kid, really."

"Excuse me," said the Doctor, pompously, "but I'm actually saving the life of every single person in this neighbourhood by doing this, regardless of whether I enjoy it or not. Can we try and keep the bigger picture in mind, please?"

Rose smirked. "Of course. Now go on, then. Go set off your souped up firework."

The Doctor shot her a disgusted look, before instructing, "Go and stand on the other side of the road."

Rose sighed, but complied, leaving the Doctor to set off the fire. She went and stood next to Linda, who wasn't the least bit interested in what the Doctor was doing - she only wanted to know if she'd be getting her vacuum cleaner back.

Rose was just wondering how to break it to her that the answer was probably "No, you can't have the exact same one back, because it has been enhanced by alien technology," when a loud explosion erupted on the other side of the road.

The small hut disappeared, immediately consumed by a wave of large, fiercely orange flames.

Rose staggered forward, concern etched all over her face, when the Doctor suddenly came flying out of flames, like some mad, pinstriped-wearing devil.

He crossed the road, dragging one foot hard against the tarmac. Rose gasped, thinking he had seriously injured himself, when she realised he was just trying to extinguish a flame on the bottom of his trousers. Once he was certain he was no longer on fire, he grinned at Rose, throwing his arms out to the side and laughing.

He swaggered over, casually flinging one arm around Rose and one around Linda.

"Pyromaniac," muttered Rose, darkly.

"Just doing my job," said the Doctor, airily, "Oh, and Linda, you might want to get on the phone to the fire brigade."

The old lady nodded, uncertainly and staring at him suspiciously, before rushing down the garden path of the house behind her.

"You're not putting the fire out?" demanded Rose, disgruntled.

"Nah," said the Doctor, "There's nothing around it that'll catch fire. I don't think, anyway. And having the fire brigade come will make things far more interesting for the neighbourhood."

Rose shook her head. "So, are they all gone now?"

"The eggs? Yep. That device I made worked wonders. They won't be troubling anyone again."

"Linda wants to know when she'll get her hoover back."

"Ah. We'll have to buy her a new one…"

"That's what I thought."

"Yeah… hang on."

The Doctor ran back over to the other side of the road, standing at just a safe distance from the flames. He nodded to himself, satisfied that everything really was under control, before turning and wandering back over to Rose.

"Shall we go?" He asked, as he walked up to her.

Rose opened her mouth to answer, before stopping, surprise apparent on her face.

"Shall we?" He stopped, just in front of her, peering at her, curiously.

Rose studied his face for a few seconds, making him decidedly uncomfortable, before beginning to laugh.

"What?" he asked, anxiously running a hand over his face, "What?"

In a supreme effort to control herself, Rose violently bit her lip.

"First," she said, with great difficulty, "you have soot on your cheek."

The Doctor frowned, "Where?"

Very gently, Rose reached up and wiped at his cheek. Smiling, the Doctor watched her face closely, as she concentrated on removing all the soot. The moment was then ruined as Rose licked her thumb, and ignoring the Doctor's grimace, rubbed at a particularly stubborn bit.

"There," she said, proudly, "all gone."

She studied him once more, before laughing. Again.

"Now what?" demanded the Doctor, becoming increasingly irritated.

Rose stared at the ground and looked decidedly shifty.

"I don't know how to tell you this…" she started, nervously.

The Doctor grabbed her by the shoulders and staring at her intently, urgently demanded, "What? Tell me what?"

"Oh God." Rose exhaled, slowly, "Doctor, you've…. You've managed to singe yourself."

His eyes widened. He mouthed the word, "where?"

Sadly, Rose pointed to the tip of her own left eyebrow and then, hesitatingly, the side of her head.

Rose smiled, ruefully. The Doctor looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.

"Oh…no," he murmured, hoarsely, "That's… bad. Very bad indeed."

"It's not very much," said Rose, quickly, in an attempt to calm him, "I mean, your eyebrow looks a little funny. But the hair… not all that noticeable. Definitely shorter and flatter on the one side, but, you know. Not noticeably…" She gave him a big, reassuring smile.

The Doctor merely looked at her blankly, running his hand over his hair, in an attempt to feel where the damage had been done. Rose watched him, anxiously, hoping the shook would soon wear off.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and set off in a desperate sprint for the TARDIS.

"Well," shouted Rose, as he dragged her along the road, "maybe this'll teach you not to play with fire."

* * *

**Review? You know you want to…**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: This has a tenuous link to Hair Care. Technically, I could have developed it into a longer (better plotted) one-shot, but… it does follow on from the last chapter. And I'm afraid I don't have enough time to go developing long DW fics. I must wait for exams to finish for that…

So! Please excuse the wobbly 'plot' and the loose hair association. I hope it will give you at least _some _enjoyment…

**Disclaimereth**: Forsooth and lackaday, 'tis thine BBC that doth verily possess't.

* * *

Rose held out her hand and smiled, winningly, at the host. 

"Hi, I'm Diana and this," she said, motioning to the Doctor, "is…"

She peeked at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye, and the Doctor regarded - with some alarm - the tongue poking out the corner of her mouth.

What was she going to…

"Syngeon," finished Rose, almost gleefully.

The Doctor glared at her.

The host, however, didn't notice.

"Syngeon?" he asked, curiously, looking from the Doctor to Rose, "That's a very unusual name, isn't it?"

"I s'pose," answered Rose, grinning mischievously, "But I think it suits him quite well…"

Rose snuck a look at the Doctor's face, and was amused to find that he seemed to have been rendered completely speechless. Instead he was foolishly opening his mouth as if he had something to say, seeming to think better of it, and then closing it - all with the air of a severely wounded party. He was also self-consciously smoothing his left eyebrow, though Rose had _told _him it now looked perfectly normal - the hair restorative had worked a treat.

Realising that the Doctor was not going to say anything else - exactly as she had intended - she excused them and steered him forcefully away.

Once out of earshot, he turned on Rose, angrily.

"Syngeon!" he exclaimed, "Of all the names, in all the universes, _Syngeon_?"

Rose giggled, perhaps unwisely. "I like that name," she said, simply, reaching for a glass of champagne as a tray passed her.

The Doctor looked at her through narrowed eyes, "You wouldn't happen to be making fun of me, would you, Rose Tyler?" he demanded, dangerously.

"Me?" asked Rose, her eyes wide and innocent, "Never. I wouldn't dream of it. Just thought it was a nice name."

The Doctor scowled at her. "I don't believe you," he said, huffily, "You've been planning on calling me that for a long time. Ever since that PR woman said we absolutely had to be meet him. I thought it was a bit odd, you being so keen to make the introductions."

"Yeah, well," returned Rose, quickly, "At least it distracted you from getting all excited about the man's name being Alfonso."

The Doctor looked up, delighted, "Is his name Alfonso?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Maybe."

"I love the name Alfonso!"

"I know," muttered Rose, tiredly, remembering the excitement the last time they had met someone of that name.

"It's a brilliant name! Just like Alonzo… You know, I've always thought it would be brilliant to meet someone called Alonzo and someone called Alfonso. At the same time. And _then_, I could say Alfonso! Alonzo! Allo-"

Rose stopped him short by suddenly clamping a hand over his mouth.

The Doctor stared at her, completely astonished.

"Well," he said, affronted, as she removed her hand, "That was rude. Very, very rude. Ruder than me, even."

"Sorry," apologised Rose, "But I was worried you might've been getting a little distracted. And not at all focused on the task in hand."

The Doctor looked down at her, gravely, "Rose," he said, sternly, drawing himself up to his full height, "You should know me well enough by now to realise that I never get distracted when there are serious things to be dealt with."

Rose simply raised her eyebrows at him.

"What?" he demanded, as she continued staring at him with the same, imperious expression, "What?"

"Well," said Rose, slowly, "I was just wondering, seeing as how you never get distracted, or anything… why you weren't on a computer, checking the company records. Just a thought. You know. Especially because you said it needed to be done within the first fifteen minutes of arriving, before the memory was erased and the armed patrol guards came out…"

"Oh. Right." The Doctor looked startled. "Well, I'll just go do that, then…" He started to stalk off in a likely computer-bound direction. Halfway across the room he suddenly turned back to Rose. "And for your information," he said confidently, in a loud voice, "I wasn't distracted. No. I was just well aware that I don't need anywhere _near _as long as fifteen minutes to ha-" He stopped, as he became aware that his words were audible to everyone in the room. "To, uh… you know," he finished lamely. Conscious of the newly scandalised way in which the _crème de la crème _of London society was now regarding him, he turned and walked briskly away.

Rose stared after him, shaking her head, woefully, a smile twitching the corner of her lips. Seeing he intended to pass through a door at the back of the room, which may or may not have been locked, but was currently surrounded by lots of people, Rose put one of her many talents into use. She 'bumped into' a champagne bearing waiter who had been about to pass her by.

Rose, the waiter and about fifteen crystal glasses all fell to the floor - accompanied by the gaze of everyone in the room, who had turned after hearing Rose's shriek.

By the time Rose had picked herself up from the debris of spilt champagne - which was a terrible shame, because it was good stuff - and broken glass, the Doctor had disappeared.

* * *

Not much later, when Rose decided she had spent enough time in the party, making sure there didn't seem to be any problems, she casually excused herself. At a moment when everyone's attention appeared to be particularly focused on their individual conversations - or so she fervently hoped - she slipped through the door the Doctor had gone through about ten minutes before.

She found herself in a long, white corridor. Sighing heavily, she cautiously made her way down it, opening doors and praying she wouldn't accidentally come across anyone who worked there. Although she was fairly confident of her ability to lie, it was still much harder without psychic paper. She jumped, as she peeked round the corner of one door only to find a man tapping away at a computer. Quickly realising it was the Doctor, she composed herself and slipped inside.

The Doctor had found a large, black computer, plonked directly in the middle of an otherwise empty room. Opposite the door she had just entered by, was another, black door, with clouded windows. She ignored it and turned her attention to the Doctor.

"What _do _you look like?" she demanded.

He looked up, absentmindedly. "Oh, hello. What do you mean?"

Rose stared some more at the wildly scruffy hair, that seemed to have gained a good three inches of height, before shaking her head and saying, "Nothing. Have you got what you need yet?"

"Oh, yeah," the Doctor glanced at her before returning his attention back to the computer screen, "I got all that ages ago. I'm reading the in-office emails now. Apparently, Trisha from Accounts is seeing James from Marketing. Which is a shame, because Melanie from Personnel has a crush on him and sounds rather sweet."

"Isn't that an, um, violation of privacy?" asked Rose, primly.

"No, Rose, it's in-office mail. Any IT admin could read it. Besides, it's a good study in human nature! All the workers, gossiping away in the office, sharing their inner thoughts by email…"

"Oh." Rose thought for a minute, "James? Is he quite tall with blonde hair?"

The Doctor frowned, "I think so. And, according to Melanie, he has the "bluest eyes she's eve-"" He looked up quickly, "Hang on, how'd you know?"

Rose looked down. "I may… I may have met him at the party."

"You've been flirting already?" The Doctor looked astounded, "I leave you alone for two minutes and… How many times do I have to tell you? No flirting on the job!"

"We're always on the job," said Rose, with some confusion.

"So." said the Doctor, matter-of-factly, "No flirting."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I thought you were over the jealousy," she muttered. "Right," she continued, as the Doctor stared at her, a little startled, "We really need to go. I mean, aren't they about to come in and…"

"Yep, don't worry. I know where the delivery'll be and when. We can hijack it and safely destroy all the contaminated equipment before anyone knows. And all the info's stored…" he pulled something out of the computer, "on my handy Sonic USB Stick. Or, SUSB Stick, if you'd prefer.."

"Sonic USB stick? What? What's the point in that?"

"Rose," admonished the Doctor, sternly, shoving his glasses on top of his head as he prepared to explain, "The connection's faster, the memory's greater, it's formatted to several different kind of computers and…" he grinned, "it has a lovely blue light."

"Um…ok. Right," said Rose, impatiently, "That's enough of the technobabble."

"Well," the Doctor, mumbled, "You did ask…"

"We really have to go!"

Rose leant across the table and tugged on the Doctor's arm and reluctantly, he started to get up. She went and looked out through the door leading out to the main corridor.

"Ok," she said, turning back to the Doctor, "Coast clear."

The Doctor, however, seemed to have stopped.

"Rose," he hissed, with such force that she had to turn round, "They're stuck."

"What are?" asked Rose, wearily.

"My glasses." Forlornly, the Doctor motioned to his mess of hair, from which he was attempting to extract his glasses. Without any success.

Sighing heavily, Rose firmly gripped his glasses and yanked on them, hard. Ignoring the Doctor's yelp of pain, she quickly came to the conclusion that the glasses were well and truly stuck - how, she had no idea - and no amount of effort would shift them.

"Look, we'll sort it out at the TARDIS," said Rose, "We really need to-"

"But I look ridiculous!" complained the Doctor, still tugging on the frames, wincing as it pulled at his hair, "I can't go out looking like this!"

"You'll have to," said Rose, sternly. "Which would you prefer: looking ridiculous, but getting back to the TARDIS, or spending the night in a cell?"

"I don't know, Rose, surely -"

Rose snapped her head round as she heard footsteps approaching from the door on the other side of the room.

"Doctor, stop fussing about your hair and RUN!"

He obliged. He took his hand from his head to firmly propel her into the corridor. Their evening shoes skidded on the polished floor and the Doctor dragged Roes off in the right direction, picking up the pace as some angry shouts followed from the computer room.

"Hang on," he shouted, as they raced back through the party, amid shocked and scandalised stares; scattering champagne flutes, "Since when did you give the order to run?"

"Since you," replied Rose, disparagingly, "became obsessed with you hair."

* * *

**You know, important, scientific studies have shown that each review increases exam concentration by thirteen per cent. Right now, my exam concentration is languishing at two per cent. Please, do the right thing… **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: Slightly strange interlude here. It didn't manage to convince me 100 per cent, but I feel guilty about not updating for so long. So this'll have to do. If you hate it, please tell me. If you like it, please tell me. Basically, I'm asking you to review. Please...

**Disclaimer**: Property of the BBC. As always.

* * *

Rose idly wandered into her room, only to stop dead and narrow her eyes. She stared through the wide open bathroom door. The Doctor was standing just inside, his glasses on and studiously staring at the numerous bottles of _stuff_ adorning the side of her bath.

"What are you doing in my bathroom?" she demanded, stalking over to the doorway.

The Doctor didn't pause in his scrutiny of one of Rose's shampoo bottles. "_Your _bathroom, is it?" he asked, mildly, "Actually, Rose, I think you'll find it's already on the TARDIS and seeing as how the TARDIS really belongs to me, this is actually _my_ bathroom."

"This," said Rose, firmly, "is my room and you are currently standing in my bathroom. Why?"

"Why?" The Doctor frowned, picking up another bottle and staring at it, intently, "The TARDIS said the the light above your mirror was faulty, so I came to fix it. I'd hate for you not to be able to see yourself in the mornings – you'd really be missing something. Rose, why do you have a special shampoo for 'dull and greasy' hair?"

Rose was so taken aback she forgot to be annoyed.

"Um, so I don't get dull and greasy hair?" she replied, managing to restrain herself from adding "obviously".

"No, but this bottle is _for_ dull and greasy hair. As in, it gives you dull and greasy hair. I wouldn't have thought that'd be something you want."

Rose laughed. "No, Doctor, that's just what they say. You know;_ if you have dry hair, use this_! That's not what it's actually going to give you..."

The Doctor looked up at her, raising his eyebrows. She recognised the expression of slight superiority. "Er, Rose, I think you may have misunderstood. That may be the case on Earth, but it's a little different on other planets. Where'd you get this one?"

"On that..." Rose thought for a minute, and the Doctor surreptitiously watched her, fond of her 'thinking face', "In that big shopping centre, with all the little turquoise rabbits. When you went off for the Recca-whatsit."

"Reccatochtane," he corrected, absent-mindedly. "Rose..." the Doctor wrinkled his nose a little, "Did you notice anything about the hair of the people on that planet?"

"Yeah, actually," she cast her mind back to the people she'd seen, "it was disgusting. And weird, considering how many bottles of specialist shampoo there were on sale. I thought the stuff must be good, though, seeing as how it would have had so many cases of bad hair to deal with. You know, it would have been thoroughly tested and everything."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head, while still looking mildly amused - it was a highly accomplished expression. "Oh, Rose, on that planet, dull and greasy hair is considered attractive. Having shiny hair is unwise and actually rather rude, so the shampoo they sell is designed to dull and dirty the hair. Which, coincidentally, has many additional benefits. For instance, it reduces the outbreaks of head lice in primary schools, which in turn caused an increase in the number of young, particularly female, teachers willing to work at them which then precipitated the number of fathers attending parents evening. It's quite a interesting case, that one." He mused on it for a couple of seconds, while Rose patiently waited for him to get to the point, "Anyway, so when it says 'for' it actually _means_ 'for'. They have a very strict policy on advertising. Quite harsh penalties, too." He grimaced, and began to study another bottle.

Rose pouted. "Oh. You could have said something before we went, you know."

"I didn't know you were going to start picking up alien shampoo, did I?" said the Doctor, quite defensively, "You normally stick to Tesco. You haven't been using this, have you?"

Rose patted her head, self-consciously, "Only once..."

"Well..." grinned the Doctor, glancing up at her with mischievous eyes, "You'd never tell. Probably best not to use this stuff, though. Although, if you did use it, we could probably cut down on the number of pretty boys who've been sniffing around you."

"Shut up," laughed Rose, taking the bottle from him, "I'm so not using this again."

She turned and shoved it in a cupboard under the sink.

"Alright," she ordered, "Out. Get out of the bathroom."

"But there are more things to look at!" whined the Doctor, "The shampoo was only the start of the investigations - I was going to look at the shower gel next. There are all kinds of funny chemicals in shower gel, you know, and I was going to make sure you didn't have any containing the ingredient that makes you especially attractive to Geischenk wasps..."

Rose pulled forcefully on his arm, "Out! A girl's bathroom is very private, Doctor. You could find out all kinds of awful things from snooping around in there."

"Do you have secrets, Rose?" asked the Doctor, his curiosity piqued and he allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom.

"Doctor," sighed Rose, "every female has secrets. Especially when it comes to bathroom issues."

The Doctor digested this. "Ok," he said, seriously, "So long as you're not hiding anything major, like dying your hair. That would be a shocking thing to keep from me..."

Rose rolled her eyes, "That's hilarious, that is. Besides, anyone could tell by the roots."

"I like the roots!" protested the Doctor, "I think it makes you... you... individual." He emphasised the last word, looking very pleased with himself.

"You're going to get a slap if you're not careful," warned Rose, looking a little uncomfortable, and the Doctor's face fell, "Just leave it, yeah?"

"But I mean it!" he exclaimed, eager to make her understand, "I like the roots. They're nice. Doesn't make you look tacky or anything." He rushed on as her eyebrows shot up in an alarming way, "And doesn't make you look like a scary, barbie-clone. It's as if your hair has layers and kind of makes you you. It's nice. Really."

"Well." Rose digested all of this, "Thanks. Can't be bothered to re-dye it, anyway. Too many other things to do..."

"Yes," agreed the Doctor, anxious to move away from the awkwardness, "I know exactly what you mean. Actually, I think there's a bit of a problem on Trihyde that needs resolving..."

"Right," she grinned, in a way that meant he couldn't help grinning too, "we better see to that then. That sounds a lot more interesting than standing around, discussing toiletries."

The Doctor laughed, breezily, and Rose began to follow him out of the room.

"Hang on," she said, the tone of her voice stopping the Doctor in his tracks. "What's that in your jacket pocket?"

The Doctor tensed, "In my pocket?" he asked, weakly, "There are many things in my jacket pockets, Rose. Sonic Screwdriver, for instance. Never know when you'll need that. Psychic paper, which is almost equally as useful. Then we have a lollipop, animal plasters, loose string, earphones, slightly melted chocolate biscuit, an incontiggle wire..."

"No," said Rose, nonchalantly, "I meant, more, the big bottle-shaped item."

"Big bottle-shaped item?" the Doctor exclaimed, dramatically, "Rose, there is no big bottle-shaped item!"

Calmly, Rose marched up to him and reached inside the jacket pocket. Triumphantly, she withdrew a bottle of shampoo.

"Oh!" said the Doctor, feigning surprise, "Oh! Well, I have no idea how _that_ got there..."

"No," said Rose, "I'm sure you haven't..."

"The bottle must be made of a superior alien plastic," he began babbling, "which can somehow travel unaided. Completely brilliant science, of course. It must have been attracted to something inside my pock-" He stopped as he realised Rose was completely uninterested.

Slightly nervously, he watched her turn the bottle over in her hands.

"You do realise," she mused, "that this is the most expensive and most effective bottle of shampoo I own?"

"Really? Well, it's good that you found it, then. I can't imagine how it ended up in my pocket. Though my theory about the plastic sounds pretty convincing, don't you think? Just imagine, though, if you hadn't been clever enough to spot it, I could have gone wandering off with it and we'd never have realised..."

"Doctor," sighed Rose, setting the bottle down on the dresser table behind her. "If you want to borrow any of my hair products just _ask_, ok? It's not more manly to shiftily nick it, so you can pretend you never wanted it. More importantly, just buy you own..."

"Right..." The Doctor cleared his throat, "Right. I'll bear that in mind. Buying and asking my own from now on. I mean, asking and buying my own. Yep, I'll do that."

"Good," beamed Rose, but knowing the resolve would never last, "Come on, then. Problems to solve, worlds to save, Doctor shampoo to buy..." She turned and began leading the way out of the room.

"Precisely," said the Doctor, brightly, surreptitiously slipping the shampoo bottle into his secret _inner_ jacket pocket. "Off we go."

* * *

Review...? 


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**: A short blast from my state of insanity. Written during an exhaustion-induced stupor. Posted after a deterioration of the aforementioned conditions. So could be good, could be really, really bad...

**Disclaimer**: Mine? Not on your nellie, matey.

* * *

"Oh my God," exclaimed Rose, wrinkling her nose as soon sa the Doctor entered the control room, "What is that _smell_?"

The Doctor wrinkled his own nose. "Smell?" He sniffed, ostentatiously. "I don't smell anything particularly out of the ordinary."

"Seriously?" Rose stared at him in disbelief, "It's... God, it's really strong. It's like..." She frowned, then her expression suddenly cleared as realisation struck. "It's vinegar! A really strong smell of vinegar!" She peered at him, curiously, "You been fighting Slitheen?"

"Ah, no," said the Doctor, shuffling his feet a little, "I haven't been using it as a weapon. But as a... natural beauty product." He grimaced, "Oh, did I have to use 'beauty'? That just sounds wrong. Makes me seem quite vain, really. There must be a better word for it... I could use 'remedy', but I'm not exactly unwell..."

"Vinegar?" broke in Rose, hoping to clarify the situation.

"Vinegar," smiled the Doctor, bashfully, "It's very good for the hair, you know."

"Well, yeah," agreed Rose, "But then, I've heard olive oil is even better. Doesn't smell as bad, at any rate."

The Doctor drew himself up to his full height. "I think you'll find that olive oil is too expensive to use just on your hair."

"You're probably right about that," said Rose, "We really need to watch how much unlimited credit we spend."

"Don't get smart," he admonished, "I believe it's important to learn the value of unlimited credit."

"What, not spending it helps you work out it's _unlimited_?"

Rose stared at him like he was stupid. And though he knew he wasn't stupid – far from it – that stare always had a way of making him feel distinctly inadequate.

"Oh, Shuddup." groaned the Doctor, unable to come out with anything remotely better and possibly proving he was, in fact, stupid, "I just happened to find the vinegar. I thought it'd be interesting to use it; you know, the kind of useful things you can do with ordinary household products!"

"Though this is hardly an 'ordinary household'," observed Rose.

"Anyway," continued the Doctor, ignoring Rose, "At least my hair is incredibly shiny."

"It is," Rose smiled at him, charmingly, before remarking, "It's also really, really smelly. How much did you use, anyway?"

"One of those bottle things, I think?" The Doctor frowned in concentration as he attempted to recall the exact amount. He was aware that Rose probably wouldn't want precise volumes, so he tried to stop himself from going through the calculations, "Hard to tell, really. It was difficult to work up a lather with the vinegar, so I thought adding more would help."

Rose raised her eyebrows, "Let me guess – it didn't?"

"How'd you know?" asked the Doctor, before collecting himself, "Well, no, it didn't."

Rose feebly stifled a laugh, before turning an expression of extreme disbelief on the Doctor, "I thought you of all people," she said, "would realise that the last thing vinegar's supposed to do is go into a _lather_. You're the chemistry man. Not me."

"Well, no," agreed the Doctor, "because you're a woman."

"You know that's not what I meant." sighed Rose, shaking her head. "Besides," she added, with a hint of despair, "I think you're meant to _dilute_ the stuff, first..."

"Yes, of course..." he fidgeted uncomfortably, "Anyway! Can we stop talking about this now? Let's go. We've still got a lot of places left to visit..."

In a frenzy, he scrambled over to the console, clearly concentrating on where he intended to go next. Rose watched him, an expression of wry amusement on her face, before she decided to act.

"Stop right there, Doctor," she commanded, a slight smirk spreading across her face as the Doctor froze, "We're not going anywhere until you've rewashed your hair and got rid of that stink."

"Why not?" he whined, "It's not as bad as all your scented stuff."

"Excuse me?" cried Rose, "It's actually one hundred times worse. We'd probably end up arrested for stinking out a public place."

"Actually, Rose, in some cultures," the Doctor informed her, "it's your scented stuff that offends, rather than the more natural smells like vinegar."

Rose simply folded her arms and stared at him. "Well then. That smell really offends me. Just know that I'm not coming anywhere _near_ you while you smell like that. It's so strong it'd make my eyes water. You can forget hugs, mate."

The Doctor digested this.

Rose noticed a slight resignation on his part and saw she had won. "Go on," she chided, "off to the shower with you. Wash your hair. Several times. And I'll let slide the fact that it's _my_ shampoo you're using. Even though I had planned to tackle that subject today."

The Doctor looked slightly wary.

"Go!" she commanded, sensing his hesitation, "Before I change my mind and start asking questions..."

"Ok, ok, I'll go. Though the shampoo allegations you just made are, obviously, entirely false and you want to watch what you say, Rose. You can't just go around accusing people of _theft_! On my ship, too. And I don't even have your kiwi scented shampoo, anyway, so you can just forget it."

He froze, and after briefly locking eyes with Rose, turned and scurried off down the corridor.

"Kiwi?" said Rose, to herself, thoughtfully, "I had no idea that one had even gone missing..."

She paused for a minute, musing to herself.

"You're right," she said, finally, to the TARDIS walls, "This shampoo business really has got seriously out of hand."

* * *

**And I believe the same could be said for this whole fic, hehe. But review all the same? Pleath?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** This is... this is very odd indeed. I re-watched the Children In Need thing the other day, and got transfixed by the way he says, "Sideburns." And, um, madness ensued. But this wrote itself, so I can't really be held responsible for it...

**Disclaimer**: The BBC's, forever and always. (Provided I don't get my hands on it first...)

* * *

After the previous night's impromptu celebration of being alive (despite being chase by rabid, horned dogs), involving an intergalactic bar and more alien alcohol than Rose cared to remember, she found herself sitting alone in the kitchen, nursing a rather large cup of tea. She felt... delicate, to say the least. And she was completely certain she looked it. So, it was with slightly less enthusiasm than usual that she greeted the chirpy Doctor who entered the kitchen.

"Good morning," he smiled, shuffling into the room, "Did you not make me one?" he asked, motioning to her tea and pretending to be upset.

"No," replied Rose, shortly, not bothering to so much as look up, "Making one was enough effort, thanks."

"Poor Rose," sympathised the Doctor, clicking the kettle on with a flourish, "Must be awful, having to knock around in that little human body."

Rose gritted her teeth and scowled into her mug, "Not sure I'm quite up for species insults, Doctor."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." He continued his tea-making in silence, which Rose was very grateful for. She often considered his reaction to a night of drinking to be the most frustratingly alien thing about him.

It was only when he came to take his seat opposite her, that Rose made the full effort of raising her head and looking at him. Despite her fuzzy brain, she was still able to register that something was not quite normal about him. Well, slightly less normal than usual.

"What've you done to your hair?" muttered Rose, "You've made it all flat and weird. It kind of... hangs down at the side."

"You expect me to look my best after a night out?" quipped the Doctor, taking a small sip from his boiling cup of tea, "That's a bit hypocritical of you, I must say."

"You're lucky I have such a God awful headache," growled Rose, "because that was definitely worth a slap."

"I've forgotten how much fun hungover Rose is," smiled the Doctor.

Rose glared at him, while he smiled guilelessly back. Carelessly, he ran his hands through his hair, still getting used to being up. Rose blinked, as his sideburns were exposed and, with a huge effort, focused her eyes and looked more closely.

"What the...?" she breathed, more than a little confused.

Realising his blonde companion had noticed something, the Doctor made a feeble effort to flatten his hair again, so it partially obscure the sideburns. However, he was too slow and Rose's attention had already been caught.

"Let me see!" Her headache temporarily forgotten, Rose jumped up from her chair and grappled with the Doctor's head. She brushed most of his hair to one side, so she could look at the sideburns properly.

"What the hell are these _shapes_?" she demanded, as the Doctor made a herculean effort to escape her grasp, and, eventually, succeeded.

"Shapes?" stammered the Doctor, very unconvincingly, scooting out of Rose's reach. "What shapes? Are you seeing things?"

"They're kind of... shaved, right in the middle." Rose frowned, trying to make sense of it, "Looks a bit odd, Doctor."

"Wasn't it you? Last night?"

"Me?" Rose looked surprised by the idea, "I really don't think so."

"Well, what if you just don't remember?" pointed out the Doctor, bravely giving her a 'serious look'. "You'd had a lot to drink. It would be perfectly understandable if you just didn't remember-"

"Doctor, don't you dare try and pin the blame on me." warned Rose, giving him a very stern look, "What did you do?"

Sighing heavily, the Doctor admitted defeat. Whenever Rose fixed him with her potent death stare he knew he was beaten. It was very much like her big, puppy dog smile, but with more unpleasant results. "I'm not entirely sure. All I remember is thinking that it would be a fun idea to shave our initials into my sideburns."

"Shaving your sideburns?"

"Yep."

"Our initials?"

"Yep."

Rose gaped at him for a few, silent seconds, before launching into action. "Let's see." She roughly grasped his head in her hands, ignoring his grunt of pain,so she could get a closer look. "Which is which?"

"Well, I _think_ the one on the left is meant to be a 'D' while the one on the right is meant to be the 'R'."

"Are you sure you weren't just trying to do the shortened form of 'Doctor'?" she asked, not pausing in her close examination, tilting his head from side to side.

"No!" he replied, sounding slightly indignant, "It's definitely 'R' for 'Rose'."

"Well, I'm obviously touched that you tried to shave my initial into you sideburns." she commented, gingerly tracing the shapes with her finger, "However, 'tried' is definitely the key word here. Because, as far as I can see, you've got a nice round circle on your left sideburn and... a slight figure of eight thing on the right one."

"I know," muttered the Doctor, miserably, "It must have gone wrong."

"Must have done," agreed Rose, releasing the Doctor's head,. "Though I think it would have been a better idea to not want to shave them in the first place."

She patted him gently on the top of his head and he leant back, massaging the back of his neck.

"Well," announced Rose, decisively, sinking back down into her chair, "you're going to have to finish it off now."

"What do you mean?" demanded the Doctor, looking rather alarmed, "I don't want to write anything else on my sideburns, you know. Just the initials was the original plan, after all."

Rose raised her eyebrows. "I wasn't suggesting you wrote any more initials, believe you me. I meant that you're going to have to shave your sideburns shorter. Unless," she continued, loudly, blocking out the Doctor's protests, "You want to walk around with weird blobby things right in the middle of your sideburns all the time."

"They're not that noticeable, are they?" queried the Doctor, self-consciously rubbing his hand over one of the offending areas.

"Trust me," answered Rose, staring at his head, "Once you notice them you can't take your eyes off them."

The Doctor started to laugh - before catching a glimpse of Rose's transfixed face and realising she was serious.

"Oh, alright," sighed the Doctor, looking thoroughly miserable about it, "I'll go and do it now. Though I hope they don't take too long to grow back. I've grown quite attached to having sideburns."

"Clearly not attached enough," said Rose, primly, "You seem to be making a habit of ruining them."

"Yes, well, I was hardly thinking straight last night," pointed out the Doctor, standing up to leave.

"So much for 'Oh, alcohol doesn't really affect _me_, Rose.'" commented Rose, with a rather uncanny impression and a very sly grin.

"Look," said the Doctor, pointing a finger at her, warningly, "I had no idea that that Taffenton had spiked my drink."

"I would've thought you'd have been able to taste it, or something," responded Rose, taking a huge gulp of tea before continuing,"What with that highly developed sense of taste you're always going on about. Though I s'pose we should be glad it wasn't a date rape drug, or anything."

"Don't," groaned the Doctor, turning to head out the door, "That just doesn't bear thinking about."

"Well, you do have me to protect you," reminded Rose, sweetly.

The Doctor paused at the doorway, and replied, equally sweetly, "From what I remember, Rose Tyler, you were hardly in a state to protect anyone last night. Not that the Glesson dancer was complaining. Just how much did he offer you, again?"

"Oh, shut up, Mr. Blobby Sideburns," snarled Rose, massaging her forehead as her hangover mysteriously made a reappearance.

The Doctor stuck his tongue out, before proceeding down the corridor. He didn't think sticking his tongue out was a particularly Time Lordy thing to do, but it made him feel a lot better about the situation.

Rose, however, managed to regain her strength to bellow after the Doctor's retreating figure, "Next time we mix you with alcohol, I'm going to remove all razors! It'll be your eyebrows next and then where would we be?"

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**Reviews are always, always welcome...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** It has been ages since I've written about these two and, um, hair. But after watching VoTD, I was suddenly struck by just how much I _miss_ having Rose in the show and an actual fun, believable dynamic between the Doctor and someone else. Vair soon after these thoughts, this popped into my head. It's not the best, but, hopefully, it's not the worst...

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, because the restraining order overly complicated the business negotiations.

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Rose briefly looked up as the figure casually strolled into her room. She was sitting in the middle of her bed, towel round her neck, and two thirds of the way through curling her hair. 

"Don't bother knocking," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Thanks," said the Doctor, looking pleased, "I won't."

"No," sighed Rose, unsure of whether to smile or be annoyed, "I didn't mean- Oh, never mind."

She picked out another section of hair to curl, and began carefully winding it round the tongs. "Nearly finished," she said, glancing at the Doctor. The Doctor simply came and sat next to her on the pink bedspread, watching with undeniable fascination. He even drew his glasses out of his pocket and carefully slipped them on.

Rose tried very hard to ignore him and the way in which she could almost feel the force of his intent gaze burning a hole in the side of her face. It was not particularly comfortable, and she was already feeling hot enough from the curling tongs. With no small struggle, she concentrated on getting her hair curled without any irritating kinks. However, when she released the final section to reveal the last of the springy curls, she turned to the Doctor and snapped, "What?"

"Me?" jumped the Doctor, looking completely startled and not completely unafraid, "What've I done?"

"Yes you." replied Rose, grimly, gently separating out her new curls with her fingers, "Staring like that. What do you want?"

The Doctor reached out and gently touched one of her new, bouncy curls.

"Will you curl mine?" he asked seriously, "The whole process is quite fascinating, in terms of the simple transformation. And I honestly believe that that particular style is very well suited-"

"Are you joking?" demanded Rose, still blinking from surprise, her hands frozen in her hair.

"For once, no," continued the Doctor, solemnly, helpfully pulling her hands down from her hair.

"You can't go saving the universe with curly hair!" she exclaimed, jumping off the bed to unplug her curling tongs and preparing to pack them away.

"Why not?" demanded the Doctor, lazily watching her, "I have before."

"I know, I've seen the pictures... But not like this. And with your big hair, it'd just be... weird. And so girly. And..."

"I'll tell you what you are," pouted the Doctor, still casually leaning back on the bed, "You, Rose Tyler, are hairist."

"Hairist?"

"That's what I said."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He sat up and leant forward: "I mean that you are unwilling to acknowledge the possibilites of people attempting other hairstyles. You're prejudiced." Then, looking very smug, he leant back again.

"I am not prejudiced!" exclaimed Rose, feeling outraged, despite realising how ridiculous his claim was, "I'm just _saying_ that I don't think really curly hair would suit you."

"And I'm just saying that I would at least like to try."

The Doctor folded his arms and regarded Rose, mournfully.

"Oh no," groaned Rose, watching his dark eyes pleading with her, "Do not pull that expression on me."

"What expression?" asked the Doctor, innocently, still looking horribly hurt. And irritatingly adorable.

"The big puppy dog eyes. You know." The Doctor merely continued to watch her as she attempted to continue packing up the curling tong equipment, testing whether they had cooled down enough to put away. Until she suddenly threw it all back on the bed and sighed, elaborately.

"Fine." She said, curtly, turning on the Doctor, "You win."

* * *

"You have an awful lot of hair equipment," observed the Doctor, curiously, as Rose continued working on his hair. "What other stuff have you got?"

Rose laughed, knowingly. "Oh no, you are so not finding out. Ever."

"Fine," accepted the Doctor, simply, "if you won't tell me I'll just have to go through your room. When you're out."

"As if you'd even recognise any of it," scoffed Rose, concentrating on the curlers.

"Excuse me, I think a genius like me could work out some beauty appliances."

"Trust me," grinned Rose, "this stuff is way out of your league. Anyway, we've been through this before: you have no right to go through my room."

"It's my ship!" complained the Doctor, jerking his head so that his neck touched the curling tongs. "And you just said I didn't need to knock before entering your room."

"Serves you right," said Rose, acknowledging the Doctor's wince, before gently rubbing the sore spot. "Um, the knocking thing was _sarcasm, _Doctor. And you know, there is such a thing as privacy. But because I doubt you will ever understand that, I think I'll just tell the TARDIS not to let you in my room."

"Again, my ship. What on earth makes you think she'd take your word over mine?"

"Oh, I dunno. But the fact I've never hit her with a mallet must count for something."

"Oi! She doesn't work as well as she used to and sometimes it's necessary to-"

"Wallop her with a mallet?" supplied Rose, sarcastically. "Honestly, you're like those blokes who whack the TV set when the screen goes fuzzy."

"Please don't insult my intelligence," sniffed the Doctor, looking pained.

"Someone needs to," smiled Rose, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, "Else you won't be able to move with such a huge ego. Which would make running away very difficult."

"You are so rude. Anyway, even if the TARDIS wouldn't let me in, I'd just have to wait till you fell asleep... and then sneak in..."

"Stop it," admonished Rose, rapping him on the top of the head, "that's really creepy."

"Really?" asked the Doctor, looking delighted, "Am I doing creepy?"

"Yes," answered Rose, disapprovingly, "Slightly too well."

"That's funny, I didn't really think I was properly suited to creepy. Menacing, yes, but not creepy..."

"Well," said Rose, releasing his last bit of hair and leaning back to assess the look, "You certainly are with curly hair."

"What?" demanded the Doctor, leaping up off the bed, "Let me see." He bounded over to the mirror, eagerly, while Rose began shaking out the cramp in her hand.

"Ah," he said, as he was confronted by his new, curly reflection. "I think I might see what you mean, there..."

"Mm hm. You know, someday, you are going to learn to listen to my judgement." advised Rose, carefully collecting up all the hair apparatus that had become scattered all over her bed. "And you won't thank me for it, of course, but it will save silly hair disasters like this..."

"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," interrupted the Doctor, still transfixed by his reflection, "My hair _is_ curly, after all..."

"Oh God," groaned Rose, "don't tell me you're starting to _like_ it."

"Like it? Rose, I love it! Could I possibly borrow those curly-wurly things?"

He hastily ducked as Rose threw a big, fluffy cushion at him.

"No? Ok, fine. If you're not prepared to share, I'll just have to get my own..."

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Ok, guys, please let me know if these are... still worth writing. Drops in reviews are fine, but I just want to make sure that anyone at all is still enjoying the insanity... 


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